yoga and poetry {poetry thursday}

When my students rest in savasana at the end of class, I sit on my yoga mat and breathe deeply, opening myself up to the possibility of something bigger, greater than what I know. I am seeking a tiny glimmer of something that will prompt me to know what to share at the end of class. Sometimes I share words that come to me. Other days I will share a chant, meditation, or pranayama (breathing technique). Lately, I have been picking up a book of poetry (Oliver, Stafford, Sarton) before I leave my house and taking it with me. After I sit silently for a moment, I will open the book. I might find a poem that demands to be read aloud or the tiny glimmer I felt earlier will grow. It is as though I feel like I am communicating with a greater energy (the universe, the divine) through the words of the poet that I hold in my lap in the form of a book. Last night, this came to me through Mary Oliver and one of the sections of her poem "The Leaf and the Cloud." A few lines from this poem:

Even now
I remember something

the way a flower
in a jar of water

remembers its life
in the perfect garden

Over the last few months, there has been an undercurrent connecting yoga and poetry and my journey with them both. They each invite one to see one's own reflection. Through words, through the breath, through a journey inside. I want to share more about this as my understanding continues to unfold.

I feel as though poetry and yoga could save the world.

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On this Poetry Thursday, I have a question for you:
Are there poems, poets, books of poetry that come to mind that might be seeking a journey to one of my yoga classes? I would love to hear your recommendations.

with my brother {self-portrait challenge}

With my baby brother

(Though fall does seem to have arrived in the Seattle area, this picture was actually taken last winter. I tried to get my brother to pose for a picture today but he just wasn’t feeling all that photogenic so I am sharing this one.)

I spent part of the day with my brother today. It was an unexpected gift in the midst of the craziness of things lately. We had lunch and did a little bumming around Portland. And at some point, in the middle of the afternoon, I had this realization, “my brother is an adult.”

I feel lucky to know him and to call him my friend. He is pursuing his dreams in a way that makes me stand back and grin. He has realized he has a gift and he is using it. It really is quite fantastic and inspiring.

We spent part of the afternoon with Alexandra and she was asking us about our relationship. As we talked, Matt and I had this realization that we don’t really have a lot of baggage about one another. There have been times when we haven’t been as close or have bugged each other in the way that happens when you are siblings, but we don’t really have a lot of “stuff” within our relationship. We may have feelings about the roles we play in our family, but when it comes to me and my brother sitting and talking…well, we just seem to get it. I think that this is partly because we have other stuff to deal with in our lives and we are the kind of people who just realize that it is easier to support one another than find reasons not to care and love. Even though we may have chosen different paths (and he is a lot cooler than me), we can meet in this safe place.

The image that comes to mind is that in my family I have often felt like I am on an island sitting in the dark. The way I look at the world; the way I want to talk about things; the kinds of relationships I have with people – how I want to just move on past the crap and get to the good stuff; the beliefs I have; the books I read; and on and on…these things have invited me to feel a bit apart. But in the midst of today I felt as though my brother arrived with a flashlight and some candles and said, “Hey, you weren’t ever really alone, you just forgot to call out for me. I was here the whole time.”

And that is a really beautiful gift.

today

seek compassion

for yourself

for those you love

for those you will never meet

for the world

on a warm summer's eve {the idea that might become a reality}

If you have been reading my blog for a while, you know that I love Kenny Rogers and his music. In March, I wrote a post that detailed a history of how his music has impacted my life. Since that post (and the fact that for about four months his twenty greatest hits and the Indigo Girls were the only music on my iTunes on my computer – until Jon gave me my Nano for my birthday), I have listened to his music over and over while I am working and writing. A few weeks ago I downloaded another album (the one the Bee Gees produced, Eyes that See in the Dark) and have been singing it several times a week. My current favorite is “This Woman.”

Last month, we decided we were going to visit my family for Thanksgiving. Around here, I start playing Christmas music the weekend after Thanksgiving. Because, well, why would you not? I mean you only can really listen to it for a few weeks out of the year. One of my favorite CDs to listen to is Once Upon a Christmas with Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton. They had a Christmas special on in the 80s that went with this album. Did you see it? So good.

There is a song on the album called “A Christmas to Remember.” It’s about how the two people singing planned on spending a Christmas alone in Tahoe but ended up having a love affair with one another. “You made this a Christmas to remember. Spring time feelings in the middle of December. Beneath the mistletoe, you kissed me warm and tender.” I remember that even as a fifth grader I was hopeful about finding such romance when I was older. There is also the ultra-serious song “Once Upon a Christmas,” that tells the story of Jesus’ birth and Kenny narrates part of the song. My family wasn’t very religious but the seriousness of the story of a young couple trying to find a place where they would be safe resonated with me. I don't think I have ever shared this next story with anyone. In fifth grade, my aunt and my cousin (actually the one who just got married in Durango) were both very ill. My memory tells me that we were worried one of them might die, but that might be more the active imagination of a serious young girl talking. What I do remember is praying every time I heard this song. Praying so hard I would almost cry that god wouldn’t take my mom’s sister from her or my cousin who, at the time, I thought of like a sister (she and my brother are the same age. I thought of her as like his twin in some way since they were born on the same day). I can remember being in the back of my parents' Lincoln Town Car praying and praying whenever that song would come on the CD player. Of course, it was always followed by the song “I Believe in Santa Claus” which can snap a person right out of such solemn thoughts, and it always did. They each recovered from their illnesses.

Last week, my dad mentioned that Kenny was going to be playing in my hometown the Friday after Thanksgiving. A Christmas show. He thought I might want to go with my mom and Jon to see the show. Yes. I. do. Bought the tickets right away!

Last Sunday, I was telling Jon about the show and how I haven’t seen Kenny in concert in almost twenty years. I was sharing that over the last few months I have realized that part of my connection to the music of Kenny Rogers is that it feels like it represents the best of my childhood. The memories associated with his music are all really good ones. And I said, “I wish I could tell him that.”

As I thought about this, I had this odd little thought that maybe I could ask my blogging community for advice on how to write to him and maybe even ideas for how I could meet him in person in November to tell him.

Then on Tuesday I had dinner with my fried Julia and I explained all of this to her. I said that I knew Kenny was going to be here on September 11th to play at the fair but that I wasn’t going but would be going to the concert in November. She said, “I know the woman who books the talent at the fair. Maybe I could ask her for an address where you could send a letter to him.” Aha!

On Wednesday, she called to say she was sending me an email but wanted to be on the phone with me when I received it. It said that her friend would be happy to hand my letter to Kenny’s manager if I mailed it in time for Monday’s show. Insert excitement and gratitude.

I spent part of the day Thursday writing a letter to Kenny Rogers. I printed out the blog post from March and enclosed it in the letter. I realized that it was more about letting him know that even though he doesn’t know me, he and his music have been part of my life, and I have realized that when someone has touched your life, you should tell that person. It isn’t just about being a fan and meeting someone but saying thank for being in my life.

And if all goes well, his manager will read it tomorrow and then hand it on to Kenny.

I am giggling with glee in my corner of the world and singing along with The Gambler.

We really can manifest magic in our lives.

checking in

I am still out here...and am not trying to take a break from blogging...but somehow I have for the last few days. Creating a prompt was about all I could do for Poetry Thursday this week.

Jon and I are up to something today, something I hope to share in pictures tomorrow or early next week. Something my attention has been turned toward in the few free moments away from working this week. I feel like my behind is glued to my little corner of the couch with all the work I have been doing.

I have also had something serendipitous happen this week with regards to something that was just a thought last weekend. I will explain more about this as well. Until then, I leave you with this gorgeous photo from the garden right outside the casista we stayed in when we were in Durango last month.

Blessings to you all!

me and my golden child {self-portrait challenge}

Working from home can be a bit lonely at times, but the Mill-dog is always here to keep me company. Her personality took some getting used to but now I can't imagine life without her sweet face.

She is my dear golden child Millie...and she is sick again. We rescued her a little over a year and a half ago, soon after we lost Traveler, and in this year and a half, she has been to the vet more times than Trav was in all the fours years I had him (not counting the last few months of his life when he had cancer).

This time...well...I don't want to embarrass her and have her give me a look like this:

So I will just share that she has an irritation. And when dog's have irritations they tend to lick them, and our vet decided that licking was not the way to go with this irritation. So when we are not around, she gets to wear this special head gear. I keep trying to tell her that it is fashionable, but I think it is safe to say she is pretty annoyed by the whole thing. I would be too.

Millie...my golden child...my friend...my daily companion...

To see other portraits of people with their loved ones visit self-portrait challenge.

a fortune cookie's fortune {sunday scribblings}

When I first thought about the prompt of fortune cookie, I was thinking about the idea of finding a fortune from a fortune cookie tucked into a book. A fortune that would one day make sense. A fortune that would come true. And the fortune that came to my mind was, “one day the living room of your heart will be full.”

This led me to think about how I spent so much time with my nose in a book when I was in college. So many evenings in Barnes and Noble. I lived on campus, and how much money I would have saved if I would have just gone to the library instead of buying new books. But to go to campus in the evening, alone, meant admitting I didn’t have friends with whom to do something a bit less nerdy. My friends were from my boarding school and they were all at other schools around the country. I loved my classes in college though. Everything began to seem connected. The books I read for school connected to a book I would pick up at Barnes and Noble connected to a conversation I would have with my therapist connected to a passage from a book that my theology professor would hand us to read and so on. Even though I often felt very alone, I began to believe that the authors of the books I was reading understood the path I was walking on. They understood feeling like you might be the only person to see the world in a certain way. But because the connections of the writing sometimes washed over me in such a joyous way, I was certain I was not the only person who saw things the way that I did.

(disclaimer alert) At that time in my life, I did have people who I know loved me (and still do), but this is more about the loneliness that is simply inherently part of who I am.

During the last year and half of reading blogs and the last (almost) year of blogging, I am sometimes overwhelmed in the best of ways because it feels as though this loneliness is lifting. One aspect of being “friends” with the authors on your bookshelf is that there is not interaction. They can share things with you and you can learn, but you can’t really talk about it. With the blogging community I feel a part of, there is a connection, an interaction, between the reader and the writer. You can let people know when their writing resonates deep within you. This is pure magic at times.

Even though it sometimes feels like the people who get me have simply appeared inside a laptop instead of sitting on a bookshelf, I am starting to feel as though the fortune is coming true.

********

I love that this year I have been introduced to the joys of writing prompts.

As I was driving home after spending a wondrous afternoon with acumamakiki, I was thinking about how amazing it is to feel such a deep connection with someone when you meet them in person for the first time. Then I was reflecting on waking up to three delightful emails from Meg. And even though I felt a tinge of sadness that these women do not live down the street from me, I still was smiling from ear to ear at the realization that I am not quite as alone as I think I am. And some where in the midst of all of those thoughts, the fortune “one day the living room of your heart will be full” came to me. Another layer to this prompt is that in thinking about all of this an idea for a piece of fiction came to me as well. I am still working on that but will share soon.

To read what others felt prompted to share about fortune cookies click over to sunday scribblings.

if you were a fly on the wall tonight

you would hear things like:

"go! go! go!"

"catch it!"

"don't you touch him..."

"get him. get him. get. him!"

and one thing i know for certain is that somewhere across this country, right there in one of those "middle states," is a man who looks a bit like me, who has a similar nose and hair and eyes, and if you were a fly on his wall you would be hearing something similar because i learned these phrases from him.

it's notre dame football season folks. and those boys are winning.

when i was a student at nd, i became a bit negative about "domers" and some of the ego that sits on that campus. but as a kid, i loved that place and the football and basketball teams as though those boys were members of my family. my dad went there; i couldn't wait to get there. (sidenote: the education i got there was incredible and i would do it all again, but i never fit in there. ever.)

but last year, i caught that football fever and enjoyed watching when i could. and this year, i plan to do the same. i found my inner domer. and darn it if that ain't some kind of fun.

"go! go! go! go! go!"

and they did.

(and the away games are on often on abc, like tonight, and that means a commercial for grey's anatomy. that patrick dempsey is some kind of cute.)